Thousandfeathers
by glasshibou
Summary: No good deed goes unpunished. Drabble series. AU.
1. I

It was only nine in the morning, and it had already been a long day. Dalir was sick, so she picked up the early baking shift, meaning that she'd been in the cafe since four in the morning. It was busy, exhausting work, and she would be glad to get back to her dorm room and sleep… Which depended entirely on whether or not her roommate was feeling cooperative or not. Sarah sighed and pulled the last tray of cupcakes out of the industrial oven, setting them to cool on the counter.

The front door bell tinkled; Sarah looked up.


	2. II

"They've been out there for a really long time," Anastasia remarked, nodding her head toward the two men sitting at the cafe table outside. "Think they're an item?"

"I don't know," Sarah shrugged, eyeing the number of chocolate chip cookies in the display case. She was trying to decide if it was worth getting more batter from the fridge to bake up or not. "I know the one man was in here right as we opened, but that's about it."

Anastasia hummed, resting her chin on her hands.

"Oh, no, look," she said sadly. "I think they're having a fight."


	3. III

Anastasia was right; the man who ordered the coffees from Sarah was crumpling up his napkins. Sarah winced as she watched him throw the trash in his companion's face, and she wondered why the blonde man didn't respond. He didn't even blink.

The first man stood up and stormed away, leaving something behind in his chair, but a group of students stumbled in, dragging her attention back to her actual work before she could see what it was. When the rush slowed down, the blonde man was still there and was still scowling at the empty chair across from him.


	4. IV

He really was gorgeous, Sarah thought. His features were sharp, almost hawklike, and even though he was beautiful, he looked frightening. The man's scowls only made him more unapproachable, which may have been the point. His hair was cut in strange layers; some were short, cropped close to his head, while others were considerably longer. Overall, it looked like somebody with a vendetta attacked him with garden shears. There was something about his eyes, too, Sarah mused, something odd…

And he was staring right at her, as if he could flay her flesh from her bones with his glare alone.


	5. V

"Um," said Sarah eloquently. "I don't mean to intrude, but-"

"And yet you are," he interrupted, taking a sip of his cold coffee. Sarah felt a blush creep over her cheeks. _You don't need to be so rude_ , she wanted to say, _even if it's true_. She held the cookie out to him, a peace offering. He just stared at it, unmoving.

"For you," she prompted, sitting the cookie down on his empty plate. "And I'll just clean up this mess." The crumpled napkins were still on the table; Sarah scooped them up and put them in her apron pocket.


	6. VI

Sarah watched the clock tick closer and closer to noon, agonizingly slow. Noon was when her shift ended and she could go home and sleep while her roommate was in class. Noon was freedom. Noon meant that she could stop hiding out in the kitchen to avoid the man out front.

But she shouldn't have worried; when she left the building, he was nowhere to be seen anyway. Anastasia didn't know when he left, only that he had. The only things left at his table were his cup and the strange coat his companion left behind.

Sarah picked it up.


	7. VII

It felt like warm water sliding over her hands, and Sarah realized with a start that it was made up of thousands of tiny white and tan feathers. They didn't poke or jab like she imagined a feathered coat would have, but were instead incredibly soft. She resisted the urge to shove her face in it.

Leaving it in the cafe would only get it messy-covered in flour or caked in raspberry filling-and Sarah was sure that it was a very, very expensive piece of clothing. So she did the only thing she could think of.

She took it home.

* * *

 **A/N** : Triple update to make up for whatever weird formatting happened. Mea culpa.


	8. VIII

The cloak-because Sarah discovered that it clasped together in the front and did not have arms, so it couldn't be a coat-loomed in her mind even though it was tucked away in her half of the closet. She didn't work at the cafe tomorrow, but she did the day after, so she hoped he'd come back and retrieve his cloak. If he didn't, well, somebody out there was sure to know him; the cafe had its regulars, and even though she did not remember ever seeing him before didn't mean he would not return.

Sarah glanced at the cloak again.


	9. IX

He returned. Sarah wasn't sure if she should be excited or nervous; after all, she sort of did steal his friend's cloak. But the blonde man arrived just after she went on her lunch break, and he sat down at the exact same table from two days before. Sarah scurried to the back room and retrieved her messenger bag, where she'd hidden the cloak that morning. Her roommate was too curious for her own good, and would definitely ask where she had gotten something so ridiculous.

Without asking, Sarah sat down across from him.

"Hi," she said, breathless with anticipation.


	10. X

"I think this is yours," she said, placing the folded cloak on the table. "You left it here, and I didn't want it to get dirty, so… I took it. Sorry," she added sheepishly.

"You are giving this to me," he stated more than asked. His eyes were bright, making him look feverish.

"Well," hedged Sarah. "It is yours, isn't it?"

"Yes," he hissed, glancing up at her. "You give it freely?"

"Of course," Sarah laughed. "It's yours. I wasn't looking for reward money."

He stared at her contemplatively, running his hand over the cloak.

"I accept," he finally said.


	11. XI

He disappeared, and didn't return for two weeks-not that Sarah was counting, or anything.

Okay, maybe she was. A little. But it was hard not to; he was different, and strange, and generally a welcome break from the tedium of bouncing between work and classes. She didn't really have a reason to assume he'd be back, actually-he probably just came back the last time searching for his cloak.

Which she took.

Sarah buried her face in her hands and groaned. Major faux pas, Sarah, she told herself. That was creepy!

Anastasia interrupted her self-chastisement by elbowing her in the ribs.


	12. XII

He looked different. Really different. Sarah snuck glances of him through the cafe window and tried to picture how the changes happened in only two weeks.

The man was still sleek and sharp, but his hair was evened out and slicked back. Although his clothes had never been shabby before, the suit he wore looked like he'd stolen it directly from the pages of a fashion magazine. The cloak was nowhere to be seen, which Sarah thought was a pity.

But probably the biggest change was in his posture; he looked much more comfortable.

Anastasia pushed Sarah towards the door.


	13. XIII

Sarah stared down at the tiny box in his hands and wondered if somebody slipped her something hallucinogenic at some point.

He did not kneel, which was good, because Sarah thought she might have had a heart attack if he did. But he did present the box to her as if it held a precious treasure, and when she didn't take it from his hands, he opened it for her. When she still didn't respond, he started to look irritated.

Sarah sat down, afraid her knees might give out.

"Is it not satisfactory?" He asked testily.

It was a ring.


	14. XIV

"Is this a joke?" She finally asked. "Did someone put you up to this?"

"Certainly not," he said, affronted. "But I thought it appropriate that we be married according to your customs, as well."

There were a lot of things competing for her attention. One of them was the man in front of her. Another was Anastasia, grinning madly at her through the cafe window. Sarah resolved to deal with Anastasia later; she looked far too happy.

"Wait a minute," Sarah said, piecing together his words. " _My_ customs? Where are you from?"

And, belatedly: "Do you mean we're already _married?"_


	15. XV

Sarah did the only thing she thought sensible at the moment: she ran.

She darted down side streets and through shortcuts until she stood in front of the library, panting as if she might heave up a lung. Her left hand was thrown against the brick of the building, bracing her as she tried to catch her breath. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the ring glittering on her ring finger.

He must have slipped it on at some point, she thought, but couldn't think of when.

When she saw him striding down the street, she groaned.


	16. XVI

"Is this a common thing," he asked, "brides running from their grooms?"

Sarah seated herself on the library's steps and shot him a glare. There wasn't a lot she could say to him, breathlessness aside; this was a situation far outside of her comfort zone, and she had no idea how to even begin handling it. Surely, the whole thing was a misunderstanding. And clearly, the man needed help of some kind. Who went around claiming they were married to cafe baristas?

"I don't know you," Sarah blurted out. "You don't even know my name!"

"That can easily be remedied."


	17. XVII

It could not be undone. There were no… annulments, wherever he was from-he managed to avoid answering that question, somehow-and he was rather resolute in his opinion that they were married. Sarah did not want to tell her father that she had run away to a college across the country only to get accidentally married to a stranger. He would no doubt see it as history repeating itself, and just because _he_ turned out okay didn't mean she would.

Sarah tapped her pen against her notebook, trying not to have a mental breakdown in the middle of her marketing class.


	18. XVIII

"I have come to the conclusion," he said one afternoon while she sat under the oak tree in the middle of the quad, "that we should do as you suggested earlier and get to know each other." He stated this as if it was a favor he was granting her. Sarah fumed and slammed her calculus textbook shut.

"No need," she said, forcing a lightness into her tone. "I've already decided that your name is Thousandfeathers, and you're an alien from Mars. There's no other explanation."

"Thousandfeathers?" he asked, leaning towards her.

"After your cloak."

He nodded once, seemingly satisfied.


	19. XIX

He was maddening. Absolutely infuriating.

But at least he was trying to get to know her, a thing she supposed she should count as a positive for however long he decided to carry on with his charade.

"Your favorite color is purple," he said, leaning over her. The pen she was writing with was purple, but she'd also found it abandoned in a classroom a few weeks ago and claimed it as her own because she'd misplaced hers somewhere.

"Wrong," she teased. "It's blue, like the kind of blue a summer sky is after it rains. That sort of blue."


	20. XX

It was not a good day. Her father had called to warn her that her mother would be in touch soon, and Sarah avoided telling him about her accidental maybe-husband. That made her feel guilty, of course, but there was something worse looming: her mother.

Sarah hadn't seen Linda for two years, when the woman last found it agreeable to play at being a parent. It made Sarah wonder what she wanted now; Linda's attention always came with a price.

Thousandfeathers-who still had not told her his real name-was perhaps trying to be kind, but ended up only being smothering.


	21. XXI

"Please, not now," groaned Sarah, who felt a headache blooming behind her eyes. She'd been anxious all day, waiting for her mother to storm back into her life. And here was her mystery stalker, offering her yet another small box.

"It is my understanding that gifts tend to lighten a human woman's mood," he said seriously, with no trace at all of irony. The light from the streetlamp shrouded part of his face in shadows.

"No. The only thing I want from you right now is to be left alone. Maybe forever," she snapped poisonously, turning her back to him.


	22. XXII

But she turned around when he didn't raise even a single word in protest, uncomfortable with the uncharacteristic silence. She was angry, but this particular anger wasn't aimed at him. Not really. Not this time.

So she intended to apologise, but her words caught and died in her throat. She blinked up at the night sky, shielding her eyes from the glare of the streetlamp.

Because what she saw should have been impossible. No, scratch that-it was _definitely_ impossible.

But she saw it all the same.

Sarah watched as he turned into an owl and flew off into the dark.


	23. XXIII

A lot of things fell into place, and Sarah rather wished they hadn't. It was too… surreal. Things like this didn't happen to her-they happened to pretty heroines in romance novels. Definitely not Sarah Williams.

But Thousandfeathers was not human. She'd seen that with her own eyes, and there was no way for her to deny it. His insistence on doing things according to "her customs", and his tendency to call her human suddenly made sense.

Sarah brought her hands up to her mouth, and only then realized she was holding the small box he had tried to give her.


	24. XXIV

"So, you owe me an explanation. Did I just watch someone propose to you a few days ago?" Anastasia leaned over the glass countertop, wagging her finger at Sarah, who hid her hands in her apron. She still hadn't taken off the ring Thousandfeathers gave her.

"No! It's more of a… promise ring. Sort of," Sarah mumbled. "And it needs to stay a secret for now."

"I see how it is." Anastasia wiggled her eyebrows. "Forbidden romance, two lovers kept apart by forces not of their control… And other such cliches."

Sarah just wished that Anastasia wasn't quite so right.


	25. XXV

The box sat at the bottom of her bag, a reminder that she hadn't seen Thousandfeathers in days. She'd told him to go away, and he did, and that was the problem; she didn't mean her own words. She rarely did when she spoke in anger, but he wouldn't have known that.

And to make matters infinitely worse, she had no way of contacting him so she could try to apologize. Sarah looked down at the glittering ring on her finger.

"Please," she whispered, bringing her left hand up so that the ring brushed against her lips. "Please come back."


	26. XXVI

He didn't appear immediately.

Of course he wouldn't; Sarah ignored the small part of her that was disappointed. He couldn't bend the rules of space and time… Could he? Sarah decided that no, even that was too improbable, and tried to patiently bide her time.

But every time she saw a man with slicked back blonde hair, her heart jumped into her throat. And every time, it wasn't him.

"Thousandfeathers, Thousandfeathers," she said, not for the first time wishing she knew his real name. "I wish you'd come back."

"Did you say something?" Her roommate asked from across the room.


	27. XXVII

The clock at her bedside told her that it was just past three in the morning. Sarah wasn't sure what woke her up, but whatever it was it made her feel like she was being watched. She squinted into the dark, wondering if she should turn on her lamp or not.

"You requested my presence," a voice said from the foot of her bed, and if Sarah was the fainting sort, she would have passed out right then and there. She fervently hoped her roommate wouldn't choose that exact moment to wake up.

It was Thousandfeathers. And he sounded _pissed._


	28. XXVIII

Sarah slid her feet into her slippers and dragged Thousandfeathers out of her room. She didn't stop until she'd pulled them both into the bathroom tucked away behind the staircases, the one nobody ever used.

" _What are you doing_ " she hissed, trying to keep her voice low. If somebody found her with a man on the girls' floor… Well, she'd be toast.

"Your window was open," he answered tilting his head. Sarah thought back to her dorm room, where the window was indeed open to take advantage of the unseasonably warm air.

"Okay, we have _got_ to set some boundaries."


	29. XXIX

"Climbing-"

"Flying," he interrupted.

"Right. Flying through my window? Not okay." Sarah paused, chewing her lip. "For the record, if I hadn't've figured out this magic thing about you a few days ago, I'd be totally freaked. Well, more freaked."

His eyes went slightly wide-if she hadn't been looking for his reaction, she wouldn't have noticed-and then narrowed.

"Do you mean to say that when you gave me the cloak back, you did not know what it meant?"

"No!" Sarah whispered as loud as she dared. "I had no idea what was going on; I thought you were just weird!"


	30. XXX

Thousandfeathers massaged his temples with his fingertips and closed his eyes. Sarah stood and waited, wondering what his reaction would be; she would really be cross if he was angry with her. She thought she was doing the best she could.

When he opened his eyes again, he leveled a calculating stare at her. He was about to say something when Sarah heard footsteps shuffle by.

In a panic, she leapt forward, clamping her hand over his mouth and launching them both into an empty shower stall. Sarah pulled the cheap plastic liner closed, hiding them.

"Please, shh!" she whispered.


	31. XXXI

She didn't want to look up to see how angry he was at being manhandled, so she pretended to be focused on the footsteps long after they passed. Her heart still pounded in her ears from their possible discovery. Unable to pretend that she was still listening, Sarah lowered her hand.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I just can't get caught here. With you." He nodded once, a curt response.

"It seems there has been a misunderstanding," he said.

"I'll say," she replied glumly.

"However, I still consider us married. I quite like you."

Sarah felt her face heat up and redden.


	32. XXXII

"I didn't know that giving you your cloak was a proposal!" Sarah protested, taking a quick step away from him.

"What's done is done," he said, waving her concerns away. "But I will agree to properly court you, as you deserve." He took her right hand in his and leaned down so he could kiss the inside of her wrist. Sarah shivered, her toes curling in her slippers. He didn't look away from her eyes once.

"So, engaged," she said, knowing that she should still be protesting. "Can we at least just say we're engaged?"

"That is acceptable," he said.


	33. XXXIII

Sarah relaxed, feeling like her bones just turned to jelly. Engagements could be broken, she told herself, happy she had an out if she needed it. Or wanted it.

"I still don't know who-or what-you are," she said, eyeing him. "I did see you turn into an owl. Are you a wizard? Or a warlock, maybe?" She wasn't clear on the distinction herself, but both sounded appropriately magical.

"Neither. Certainly not a warlock," he sneered. "They are weak and use the power of others."

Sarah nodded, trying to pretend she understood while stifling a deep yawn.

"You're tired," he frowned.


	34. XXXIV

"Exhausted," Sarah agreed. "I was woken up a bit early."

If he understood that he was the reason she was tired, he didn't show it. Instead, he released her hand and leaned back, appraising her. Sarah wondered how awful she looked, and then decided she didn't care. If he was going to wake her up at ungodly hours, he was going to get her as she was.

"We will continue this conversation at a later time. Until then."

He left her then, striding out of the bathroom. When Sarah peeked out into the hallway, he was nowhere to be seen.


	35. XXXV

For days after her father told her that Linda would contact her, Sarah jumped every time her phone rang and avoided the campus mail room altogether. Soon enough, though, she received a notification that something was waiting for her. With a heavy heart, Sarah collected her mail.

As expected, a letter was waiting for her. Sarah signed off for it and tucked it into her bag next to the jewelry box she'd almost forgotten about. The envelope bore her mother's name in flowing golden script. It was tracked, first class mail, so Sarah couldn't even pretend she didn't get it.


	36. XXXVI

"My mother is hosting a party," Sarah said, sounding as if she'd been handed her own death warrant. "And she's invited me."

There wasn't much information in the invitation other than the time and date, and that it required formal dress. Sarah knew that she had to attend; her mother's tantrums were famous, and it would be better to go along for one evening to appease her temper.

"This is not good news?" Thousandfeathers asked.

"It's terrible news. I'm going to have to go and put up with all of her friends… Not to mention her," Sarah rubbed her eyes.


	37. XXXVII

"The last time she made me go to one of her parties, the role she was trying to get was that of a mother. So she thought that if she could show the casting director that she actually was a mother…" Sarah paused, frowning. "Well, she got the role. And I got a bottle of champagne, so I guess that was nice."

Sarah crumpled the invitation in her hand, wanting to throw it away but knowing she shouldn't. Linda did not involve other people in her life without an ulterior motive in mind; Sarah was sure her mother wanted something.


	38. XXXVIII

An idea bloomed in her mind and Sarah eyed Thousandfeathers, wondering if what she wanted to ask could be considered cruel and unusual punishment. She settled on "probably" and peered at him from over her textbook. It was one of the driest things she'd ever read in her life; looking at him was much more entertaining.

"Hey," she said, trying not to sound shy. "Do you think… I mean, I know the invitation doesn't give me a plus-one, but will you go with me? As support."

"If you wish it."

Sarah tried not to breathe an audible sigh of relief.


	39. XXXIX

They didn't speak of her family for the rest of the evening, and Sarah thanked her lucky stars for small blessings. But they didn't do much else, either; Sarah sat in one of the library's study rooms, and Thousandfeathers perched in the chair across from her. The only sounds she could hear were her own breathing and the noises the pages made as she flipped them.

Sarah didn't dislike silence, but she didn't love it, either.

"Tell me about yourself," she said, remembering their bathroom conversation. "You said we'd keep talking about magic, and then we didn't. So, spill it."


	40. XL

"What is it you would like to know?"

Sarah shrugged, pushing her book to the side. There was so much she didn't know that picking just a few things would be difficult.

"I don't know. Favorite color? Happiest memory? How about your name? Your real name," she added.

"Thousandfeathers," he said. "You named me, if you recall."

Sarah frowned at him. "No, that was a joke because I needed something to call you by. Surely you had a name before you met me."

He nodded his head exactly once and seemed to lose himself in thought.

"Jareth," he finally said.


	41. XLI

"I have been named many things over the years, but Jareth was what I was called first."

It wasn't a name Sarah had ever heard before-she'd never even heard anything like it, which she chalked up to him not being quite human. But the way he said it bothered her.

"Have other people named you? Is that why you've had so many?"

His expression soured; Sarah realized too late she stumbled onto a sensitive topic. Before she could try to take her question back, he was answering.

"All who have owned the cloak have owned the right to name me."


	42. XLII

Sarah felt sick. She knew what it sounded like and didn't want to think about it, especially not because she'd briefly held the cloak in her possession.

"But I didn't own the cloak," she protested, trying to distance herself. "I was just holding it so I could get it back to you, and besides, you… You have it back now."

She stared at him, horrified. He stared at her, surprised at her outburst.

"I didn't know," she whispered at him tearily, catching the angry glance another student threw her way. "And why does a cloak decide something like that, anyway?"


	43. XLIII

Sarah paced around the small study room, throwing Jareth nervous glances. He tracked her with his eyes, watching her nervous movement.

"A warlock did it," she said, stopping to stand in front of him. The information he gave her was hard to process. "And he stole your other shape, which is now the cloak. And you had to do what he said… And then what anybody else said, if they had the cloak." Her heart lurched in her chest; she didn't want to imagine what he went through. An unpleasant thought filtered through her mind.

"And where's this warlock now?"


	44. XLIV

"Dead," Jareth said, and if she was expecting anything different, Sarah did not show it.

She remembered his vehemence the last time he spoke of a warlock, and a shudder ran down her spine; she'd probably hate them all too, if she lived Jareth's life.

"Giving away my skin was a foolish mistake," he said, answering her next question before she could ask it. "It will not happen again."

She nodded, wondering what she could possibly do to lighten the mood or make him feel better. Sarah considered all of her options, and settled on giving him a tight hug.


	45. XLV

He didn't move, and Sarah had enough time in the awkward moment to reconsider every single life choice that led her to that awful decision. Of course a hug wasn't going to do anything-Sarah berated herself for thinking it might. And really, how childish could she _be_ -she couldn't even _comprehend-_ -

Her brain stalled out; she still didn't let him go even though every part of her was screaming to.

But he didn't push her away.

And just as Sarah was going to give up and melt into a puddle of embarrassed goo, he relaxed into her embrace. Sarah sighed, relieved.


	46. XLVI

Their conversations erred on the side of irrelevant for the next three days. Sarah learned he was fond of chamber music, and Jareth learned she did not enjoy mornings. She successfully managed to navigate away from any topic that might even remotely remind them of their conversation in the library. All of Sarah's attempts to seriously get to know him had been paused indefinitely.

She would never admit it, but she was terrified that there were other, somehow even worse things lurking in his past. The revelation that he had killed someone-no matter how justified-did not put her at ease.


	47. XLVII

Where before she might not have minded if he walked her from class to class, or if he kept some of the clingier customers away, Sarah now balked at the implication that they were close. It wasn't his fault, and while Sarah had no intention of ever restricting his freedom, she did worry that she might someday do something bad without even knowing. They'd already had more than their fair share of communication mishaps, so Sarah didn't think it unlikely that one of them would misstep. What would happen then?

Sarah didn't know.

And Sarah did not like not knowing.


	48. XLVIII

Like a plague, her mother seeped back into her life. Sarah held the phone in her hand, wincing at the caller ID readout, and wondered what the fallout would be if she simply ignored it.

"Hello, mother," she said, pleading Jareth for help with the look she shot him.

"Oh, _darling_ , there's no need to be so formal. Call me Linda."

Sarah grimaced.

"You never responded to my RSVP; I saved a spot for you anyway. I know the invitation said to arrive at seven, but I think six-thirty would be better. Cozier. It'll just be us for a while."


	49. XLIX

Sarah glanced over at her clock, where it blinked 4:39 back at her sedately. With the way traffic was, if Sarah wanted to be on time, she'd have to leave in half an hour. Feeling resentment already curdling her stomach, Sarah agreed to the change and hung up. Sarah was being set up to fail, whether her mother realized that's what she was doing or not.

It was always the same; Linda needed a scapegoat in case the night somehow went wrong, and who better to blame than a late daughter?

Sarah ripped a black dress from her closet.


	50. L

Whenever Linda was around, it was best for everybody else to blend into the background. Sarah dressed with this in mind; the dress she picked was classic, but understated. Her heels were appropriately low and boring-but not too low or boring that Linda might comment on them.

She debated whether or not she should keep Jareth's ring on, and then decided it should stay.

"You look as if you are heading into battle," Jareth commented from her bed, where he was paging through a textbook.

Sarah snorted.

"In a way, I sort of am. Let me tell you about Linda."


	51. LI

Sarah told him about her parents' divorce while she brushed out her hair, and about her subsequent temper tantrums as she painted on eyeliner. It was an old story, one she'd come to grips with long ago.

"But I think I stopped loving her when I realized that all I was ever going to be was a bargaining chip in their relationship. That took until I was about sixteen," she admitted, slipping her shoes on. "And now it's just generally easier to pretend I don't know she loves me second best. So please just… be prepared for her tonight, okay?"


	52. LII

It wasn't until they were both standing on the overcrowded metro that he spoke again.

"Who does she love best, if not her own child?"

"Hmm?" Sarah hummed, too busy watching for their stop to process his words immediately.

"Oh, well. She loves herself best, of course," she said, finally turning to look at him. "You know those little purse dogs some people get? That's like what I am to her-an accessory."

Sarah watched as his face went carefully blank and he stiffened, a pose which she knew meant he was not pleased about something.

"Look, it happens sometimes, okay?"


	53. LIII

"I grew up. I got over it, mostly. If she wants to pretend that she's a good mother to land another role tonight, then that's fine. She'll leave me alone for a while."

Sarah sighed and barely managed to avoid running her hand through her hair. As the metro pulled to a stop she swayed, tottering in the heels she wasn't used to wearing; Jareth put a hand on her shoulder to steady her. She reached up and squeezed his hand gently.

"Thanks for worrying, really. But this has happened before. I'll be mostly fine."

Jareth didn't seem to agree.


	54. LIV

By the time they arrived at Linda's doorstep they'd braved the metro, nearly got rained on, and squabbled about who would pay the cab fare-a fight which Sarah lost. Linda buzzed them up to her penthouse, and Sarah felt her mood drop with every floor the elevator climbed.

When Linda opened her doors, it was 6:30 exactly.

"Welcome, Sarah! And Sarah's guest," she said, shooting Jareth a flirtatious glance that made Sarah roll her eyes. Sarah did not offer an explanation for Jareth's presence, breezing by Linda into her home. Jareth inclined his head politely and followed her inside.


	55. LV

My, what an exquisite piece of jewelry," Linda said, and for a moment, Sarah thought she'd seen the ring already. Her unringed hand flew to her neck instead when she realized Linda was talking about the necklace Jareth tried to give her weeks ago. It was made of silver and sprinkled with blue stones in her favorite shade.

"Wherever did you get it?"

Sarah looked to Jareth for help, searching for an answer.

"I am a jeweller," he lied effortlessly. "It is one of my pieces. One of a kind."

That was a _sure_ way to incite Linda's raging envy.


	56. LVI

A buzz from the intercom saved Sarah from any further interrogation. Linda let up her guest, and a glance at a nearby clock told Sarah this guest was early, too. Sarah sagged into a chair.

"It was not a lie," Jareth said. "I did create your necklace, and it is the only one of its kind."

"Oh?" Sarah asked, most of her attention focused on Linda's front door. She touched the necklace again absentmindedly. "Know that she'll hound you for one. Just be prepared."

"She may try," he snorted. "I do not bend to the whims of others so easily."


	57. LVII

Sarah's suspicions were correct; Linda was trying to schmooze a new director. She must have wanted whatever role she was angling for very badly because she opened up a bottle of wine right away and poured him a glass. Sarah was next, and then Jareth, though neither of them took a sip.

Sarah noticed that the glass Linda poured for herself was noticeably smaller, which meant she wanted to keep her wits about her. Whatever her mother had planned, it didn't bode well for Sarah herself; she remembered the suspicious lack of a plus-one invitation.

Linda smiled sharply at Sarah.


	58. LVIII

"Director Castellanos," Linda purred. "Meet my younger sister, Sarah."

Part of Sarah was relieved that she knew what part she would be expected to play that evening. The rest of her was torn between grief and anger. She should have known better than to think her mother wanted any part of actual motherhood; after all, she'd asked her daughter to call her Linda not too long ago.

Sarah should have known something was up then.

She gripped her wine glass too tight, her knuckles whitening. Castellanos cast an appraising look over her, one of his eyebrows raising.

"And this is…"


	59. LIX

"Her fiance," Jareth interrupted, placing a possessive arm around Sarah's shoulders. She tried to smile, but it came out more a grimace.

Castellanos did not look impressed, but Linda looked shellshocked. And angry.

"Well, congratulations to the happy couple," she said lightly. "I am sure you will be happy."

"Thank you," Jareth said with a predatory grin. "It is gratifying to hear someone with as much _experience_ as you do say that."

Sarah took a long sip of wine, hoping that the sudden movement disguised her short burst of laughter. Linda would find some way to make them both pay.


	60. LX

The best way to deal with Linda was to not deal with Linda directly. She had the rest of her guests to deal with as they trickled into her penthouse, but whenever she thought nobody was looking, she shot venomous looks Sarah's way. The fallout was sure to be horrific, but for now Sarah found herself enjoying the party more than normal. With Jareth constantly hovering just behind her, she didn't have to worry about any of Linda's friends getting too familiar.

And later, when everyone was well into their cups, she would have the perfect excuse to slip away.


	61. LXI

Sarah threw herself face down onto her bed, kicking off her heels. The wine made her head spin, and the journey back to her dorm room was a blur. She knew Jareth was with her the whole way, and it was probably thanks to him she got home in one piece at all.

"Tonight wasn't so bad," she said. "Better than I thought it'd be, actually. Probably thanks to you." She buried her head in her pillow and sighed. "I'm glad you were there." Sarah could feel sleep tugging at her.

When she tried to thank him, he wasn't there.


	62. LXII

Every single student could feel the tension in the air; midterms were upon them. Most of Sarah's time was taken up with studying and working at the cafe. As the drain on her fellow students' energy increased, so did their caffeine consumption and general crankiness. Luckily, she had already completed her internship. Sarah thought she'd probably have been tearing her hair out if she had to do that on top of everything else.

It was her last undergraduate semester; she couldn't afford to flounder now. Between her shifts at work and study sessions at the library, she rarely saw Jareth.


	63. LXIII

"Why is it, exactly, that you do this to yourself?"

Sarah stretched and dropped her bag at the foot of her bed, rolling her shoulders; her last midterm wrapped up that morning, and she took the next few days off at the cafe to recover.

"So I can get into a good Master's program, so I can get a good job," she answered. "Surely you know what college is."

"Of course," he said, affronted. "But you needn't worry about a career; I can more than provide for both of us."

Sarah didn't know if she should be offended or not.


	64. LXIV

"That's not the point," she answered, deciding against irritation. It wouldn't do any good anyway. "The point is that this is something that I want to do, and besides that, I'm good at it. And after my Master's, I'm going to sit for my CPA license. I know it's a lot of work," she added patiently, "but I want to do it."

He seemed doubtful.

"But I _am_ taking some time off between this degree and grad school. I'm not that nuts." Her father wasn't thrilled about her continuing education, either; all he saw in her future were student loans.


	65. LXV

The first day of her break saw her and Jareth hiking. She had her backpack, and even though it wasn't hot out, she still broke into a bit of a sweat. Jareth didn't; Sarah wondered if he'd ever do anything so undignified.

The trees were still barren, but most of the grass was green and some flowers were beginning to poke up from the ground. Any cold snap would probably kill them, but it gave her hope that spring was approaching in earnest.

She hoped that with the turning of the seasons, her mother wouldn't start sending her wedding magazines.


	66. LXVI

Sarah slipped off the path after making sure that nobody but Jareth was there to witness it. When he didn't follow her immediately, she motioned for him to come with her. Technically, everybody was supposed to stay on the trail, but beyond that, Sarah wasn't planning to break any rules.

"There's a waterfall up ahead," she told Jareth, even though he didn't ask. "It's a really pretty place for a picnic lunch."

He didn't say anything, but when she turned to sneak a peek, she saw that he was watching their surroundings contemplatively. Whatever he was thinking, he wasn't sharing.


	67. LXVII

"It is interesting that you picked this place," he said. "Tell me, Sarah, do you appreciate nature?"

She blinked up at him, standing after unfolding the blanket she brought.

"Yeah," she answered. "I mean, I guess. Being in the city all the time can be a drag."

He nodded, thinking about her words, a slight smile spreading across his lips.

"My thoughts were correct; you are quite the individual, Sarah. It is good that I selected you."

"Um, okay," she answered, taking the strange compliment. "Thanks."

"Look," he directed, pointing to a tree just beginning to bud.

Sarah looked up.


	68. LXVIII

At first, there was nothing. Or rather, there was mostly nothing; a small shimmer in the air seemed to be the thing that Jareth was pointing at. Sarah squinted at it, and from the shimmer a shape started to appear.

First were the wings, and then the gentle slope of shoulders, followed by a torso, legs, and the curve of a neck. A tiny face appeared last, with big insectoid eyes. The figure was vaguely female, draped in castoff leaves and petals.

"Oh, wow. A fairy," Sarah breathed, afraid of making too much noise. She reached out for it slowly.


	69. LXIX

Sarah recoiled much faster than she reached out, nursing her stinging index finger.

"It bit me!" She gasped, still staring up at it. The fairy shook a tiny fist at her and squeaked, flicking its wings in irritation. Sarah frowned up at it, trying not to feel heartbroken.

"Of course she bit you," Jareth said, wry amusement spreading across his lips. "She is guarding her eggs, and you are a stranger."

Sarah considered the fairy again, and her hurt finger. She supposed it was fair... Even if she'd been raised to believe fairies were nice creatures who perhaps granted wishes.


	70. LXX

"I'm sorry," Sarah called up to the fairy. "I didn't know you were protecting something."

The fairy squeaked again, her voice too high for Sarah to make out properly. She darted back in between the branches, her eyes flicking between Sarah and Jareth.

Jareth said something in a language that somehow sounded like unfurling leaves and water falling, and Sarah saw the fairy considering her again. The fairy's wings fluttered before she darted back into a hollow in the tree trunk.

"If you promise not to touch her eggs, she is allowing you to see them," Jareth translated.

Sarah grinned.


	71. LXXI

But the hollow was too high for her to see by herself, and there was nothing to help her climb the tree. Sarah pouted, but before she could say anything the ground fall out from under her feet.

Or rather, she corrected herself, she was being lifted upwards. Jareth's hands were around her hips, and with seemingly no effort at all he placed her on his shoulders. Sarah reached out to the tree to stabilize herself and muttered an embarrassed thanks.

Inside the tree was a nest of leaf skeletons with hundreds and hundreds of tiny, pale green fairy eggs.


	72. LXXII

Sarah held her breath, half afraid of disturbing the delicate eggs. The fairy tugged at her hair after a few moments, clearly saying Sarah's time was up. Sarah hopped off Jareth's shoulders and thanked the fairy, who squeaked at her some more-Sarah still didn't understand her-and then flew back into the tree.

The forest was mostly quiet; the water babbled behind them, and Sarah could hear birdsong not too far away. It was a good enough time, she supposed, to eat lunch and have the conversation she'd been avoiding. They were away from prying ears-which meant her roommate or Anastasia.


	73. LXXIII

"So," Sarah said, handing him a peanut butter sandwich. He took it, but did not unwrap it from its foil. "I've been thinking about your… situation, and how we met."

Jareth's lips quirked, but she couldn't quite read the expression.

"I want you to know that I'd never knowingly or willingly do anything like the warlocks did, _but_ ," she continued, holding up a finger for silence. "I can admit that I'm in way over my head and there's a lot I don't know. If I ever do something that makes you uncomfortable, let me know. I'll certainly be letting _you_ know."


	74. LXXIV

Before she could let herself babble on, she took a big bite of her sandwich and turned away to look at the waterfall. Communication was good, she reminded herself. Communication was especially good in a relationship like her's and Jareth's, which wasn't quite like any she'd heard of before. And she couldn't exactly ask friends for advice, either. She was alone in the magical tailspin she'd been thrown into.

Well, not exactly-she glanced at Jareth, who had somehow transfigured his sandwich into something more palatable. No, she wasn't entirely alone. She had Jareth, even if she didn't understand him. Yet.


	75. LXXV

Sarah wasn't panicking. She took another deep breath, smoothed out her hair, and made herself sit down. She was not panicking. Just because she was all set to graduate in a week and Dr. Zworski had somehow managed to lose her entire final project and could therefore not enter her grades did not mean she needed to panic.

And just because she didn't have an extra copy of the final version didn't mean she needed to worry, either. Surely she could recreate the semester-long project from the scattered previous drafts she'd saved.

Sarah took a breath and burst into tears.


	76. LXXVI

And that was how Jareth found her, crouched in the alley behind the cafe, clutching her phone and sobbing. She didn't even really know he was there until he had pulled her into a standing position.

"Who did this?" he asked, his eyes flashing the same way they did whenever he mentioned a warlock.

"Wha-what?" Sarah asked, the shock of his sudden anger enough to stop her tears.

"Who hurt you?" he growled. "Answer, and I will return your hurt upon them threefold."

"N… No, I'm not hurt! My professor just lost my project. Without it graded, I can't graduate!"

* * *

 **A/N**

For those of you interested, there's a small constest happening over on my blog! You don't need an account to participate.


	77. LXXVII

If she'd stopped for a single moment to think about it clearly, Sarah probably would have realized that she would have still graduated. Dr. Zworski knew she'd handed it in, and they would have found a solution together.

But Sarah was not thinking logically. She was thinking of failing the class and losing her scholarships, and of having to stay an extra semester.

Instead, she let Jareth wipe the tears from her face while she hiccupped.

"When did you last see it?" He asked, still holding her face.

"Two days ago, when I put it in his mailbox," she answered.


	78. LXXVIII

"But I don't see what-" she continued, and then stopped. She was speaking to perfectly empty air; Jareth was nowhere to be seen. He'd been there just a moment ago. There one moment, and then gone the next. She frowned, missing the heat from his hands on her face. Sarah waited one beat, and then two before deciding to go back inside tha cafe and wash her face of the tears she'd shed.

Before she could actually step away, Jareth appeared again, the air around him smelling slightly of burnt feathers. In his hands was her project, whole and complete.


	79. LXXIX

" _What_ -"

"I've retrieved your paper from its last known location," he said, handing it over to her. Sarah took it, staring at the cover.

"You…" Sarah paused, squinting up at him. The implications made her head hurt; she was studying accounting, not physics, and she didn't really understand time travel. Not even in a theoretical sense. But it seemed that's what he'd done. He'd gone right back to that Tuesday and plucked her project right from Dr. Zworski's mailbox.

"You know…" Sarah grinned up at him. "I think maybe _you're_ the reason my project went missing in the first place."


	80. LXXX

Sarah reentered the cafe feeling much better, even if her eyes were still a bit puffy. Jareth took his now customary seat by the window and shuffled some old, important-looking papers around. She didn't ask what they were, or what he was doing with them. He could have just wanted to look busy; he had weird quirks like that.

The front bell jingled again, but Sarah was in the back preparing cupcakes and so didn't see who came in.

"Oh!" She heard Bethany say from out front. "Sarah, your parents are here!"

And just like that, Sarah's calm was gone.


	81. LXXXI

She plastered a smile on her face, wiped the sugar off her hands, and walked out from the back. Irene bounced Toby on her hip, pointing out cookies and pastries to the toddler. Her father look right at her, his mouth pulled down into a faint frown.

"You guys are here early," she said. "I didn't think you'd be here until the day before graduation."

"We weren't planning on it," he father replied. "Sarah, your mother..." he glanced at Irene, as if afraid his words would offend her. "Linda said you had some news for us."

Sarah wanted to disappear.


	82. LXXXII

"Some big news," he father continued as Sarah swallowed hard. "About some… life changes."

Sarah forced the smile to remain in place on her face. It would to her no good to deny anything; Linda was conniving and narcissistic, but she was not often an outright liar. And Sarah knew she'd find some way to spite her for the night of the party; she should have known Linda would do something like tell her father about Sarah's fiance.

"Well," Sarah said, and then she paused, unsure of how she was going to work her way out of this particular trouble.


	83. LXXXIII

The truth would be easiest to stick to, she decided. Or rather, an edited, heavily redacted version of the truth would be easiest to remember.

 _Don't tell them you accidentally got engaged to a magical, inhuman entity and you don't even really know how_ , she thought to herself. _Don't mention that you didn't even date before somehow getting engaged. Don't mention that your fiance thought you were married before even learning each other's names._

"That's sort of a funny story…" Sarah said, watching her father's eyebrow inch higher and higher. "Perhaps best told on my break, don't you think so?"


	84. LXXXIV

And that was how Sarah found herself sitting at an inside cafe table with her father, stepmother, and half brother on her half-hour break from the cafe. She could think of ten thousand other things she'd rather be doing.

Jareth was watching with interest, but didn't seem inclined to help her just yet.

"We're planning on a long engagement," she blurted out. "I am not just rushing into things." _Not like you_ , were the words she didn't say, but her father heard them all the same. "And I didn't tell anybody right away because I'm focused on graduating right now."


	85. LXXXV

Her father's worries were not assuaged, at least partly because he could tell his daughter was lying about something. Sarah didn't lie often, choosing instead to be headstrong and push her own point. The worst thing he could do, he knew, would be to try and talk her out of her plans of marriage.

"Well, as long as you've thought it out," he demurred, still not comfortable. He shifted in his seat, feeling the gaze of the blonde man from the next table over.

"Sarah," Irene finally spoke up, putting her hand over Toby's ears "You're not _pregnant,_ are you?"


	86. LXXXVI

Sarah sighed into her tea to hide the bubble of laughter that threatened to escape her. In other scenario, it might be a possibility; but to Sarah, who knew the truth of her sometimes-feathered fiancee, the question was ridiculous.

"Of course I'm not pregnant," she scoffed. "Trust me, it's…" Sarah paused, trying to find the words to describe her relationship. "It's not that," she finally said.

"If you were…" Irene started, clearly not believing her stepdaughter.

"I'm not," Sarah insisted. "I can prove it."

Her father's face went pale and then a splotchy red as he sputtered in his seat.


	87. LXXXVII

"That's alright, dear, we trust you," Irene said with none of her husband's embarrassment as she patted him on the hand. Sarah doubted that, based on her father's facial color.

"He's a good man," Sarah said. "I promise. And… You guys can all meet at graduation." It had to happen at some point, Sarah reasoned. That was as good a time as any; and besides, her father wouldn't want to cause a scene in front of so many people. Sarah wasn't worried how Irene would react; Sarah knew that she and Jareth would have to work on their cover story.


	88. LXXXVIII

"You called me a good man," Jareth said as he followed Sarah out of the cafe.

"I did," she acknowledged, clearing out the missed call from Linda on her phone. Her mother wanted, no doubt, to pretend to apologize for talking about Sarah's engagement. She'd also try to suss out how much damage she'd caused at the same time, and Sarah refused to give her the satisfaction.

"Because I think you are," Sarah elaborated when he fell silent. "Okay, maybe you're not a man, but the sentiment remains."

A strained expression flashed over his face; Sarah chose to ignore it.


	89. LXXXIX

The day had almost arrived. Sarah, completely drained from finals, was finally picking up her graduation gown and honors stole and cords. She kept them all in their plastic packaging, half afraid to pull them out and immediately ruin them somehow, afraid it would somehow feel more real than it currently did.

She'd gone directly from high school to college and now, faced with taking a year off from schooling, wasn't exactly sure how to move forward with her life. For the first time, she wasn't exactly sure what was next. But one thing was certain; she wouldn't be alone.


	90. XC

Sarah walked across the stage, fully aware of the cameras trained on her and the bags under her eyes. She had spent all night packing everything in her room up to move out with Jareth's help-though where he took some of her stuff, she wasn't entirely sure. It was there one minute, and then gone the next.

She looked out into the audience, where her father and Irene clapped politely and Toby was busy trying to shove his fist into his mouth. Jareth was somewhere in the crowd as well, she knew, but she didn't see him anywhere she looked.


	91. XCI

The diploma in her hands wasn't real; the official document would be sent to her father's house in a few weeks. The rolled up slip of paper was only for decoration, but Sarah was content with that. She folded it into her mortarboard, wishing she'd had time to decorate the hat.

But her finals ran right up until the night before, when she had to present her project, and she'd been too tired to even try.

From her vantage point on the staircase, she saw her father and stepmother winding their way through the crowd. She waved for them then.


	92. XCII

But it wasn't her parents who found her first. She looked away for one moment, and then the next Jareth stood at her elbow.

"I really hope nobody saw you," she said, looking around for anybody who might have noticed.

"Everybody is otherwise occupied," he pointed out. "And your parents haven't found you yet."

Sarah sighed.

"Okay. Remember what we talked about?" She couldn't help but feel that she was walking into a trap, despite how much they'd worked to make their story seem believable.

"Yes. And I am to use magic under no circumstances," he said as if pained.


	93. XCIII

"Do not bewitch my parents," Sarah muttered as they ascended the staircase, taking his hand in her own and squeezing it. Whether it was to reassure him or herself, she didn't know.

"Sarah," Irene said warmly, and then her gaze found Jareth. He held the woman's gaze until she forced herself to look away.

"And this must be," Sarah's father said, forcing himself to say the words, "your fiance."

"Jareth," Sarah supplied. "This is my father, Robert, my stepmother, Irene, and my little brother, Toby."

Jareth inclined his head and greeted them formally.

There was a terribly awkward, unbroken silence.


	94. XCIV

"Well," Sarah said, hoping for anything to help ease the awkwardness. "Perhaps we can go out for lunch together and have a nice talk." Her father opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it at a nudge from his wife. Instead, he nodded.

"I think that's a wonderful idea," supplied Irene. "What about that little Italian place by your work?"

Sarah smiled and said she'd meet her family there in an hour so she could change and freshen herself up. She wanted to ditch her heels, but everything was packed up and waiting to be moved out.


	95. XCV

Except it wasn't. Where there should have been her boxes waiting to go on her side of the room, there was nothing. It was as barren as the day she'd moved in.

"Um," was all Sarah could say, wondering if she should call campus police.

"I took the liberty of moving your things to my home," Jareth said, as if the answer should have been obvious.

"Oh." Sarah closed her eyes and sighed. "A little notice would have been cool, but it's nice not to have to move everything, I guess. But we didn't discuss this."

"I felt it expedient."


	96. XCVI

"Okay, well, we'll have to talk about our living situation after lunch. Let's just get through one thing at a time, shall we?" Sarah resigning herself to wearing her uncomfortable heels and finger brushing her hair out.

"You have your own wing, of course," Jareth said, sensing her unease. Sarah paused, her fingers still knuckle-deep in her hair. Houses didn't have wings. Not even her childhood home, which was rather large, was that big, because a whole wing implied much more than a single bedroom.

"I thought you said you had a house, not a whole castle," she squeaked out.


	97. XCVII

In the end, they had to put a pin in that discussion. There was no use trying to figure out his actual living situation at lunch with her family, and while he told her parents he owned his own home, Sarah knew it wasn't quite the truth. He also said he had a job as a high level manager somewhere, but glossed over exactly where; the jewelry was just a hobby, he clarified when Irene asked.

Both of her parents seemed to be put at ease by him, which let Sarah relax and actually enjoy the time with her family.


	98. XCVIII

They all emerged from the meeting unscathed, with very little magic used; Sarah suspected that Jareth might have magicked Toby into a cheerfully quiet state because her baby brother was never so quiet own his own, but she was willing to let that slide. A calm Toby meant a calm Irene, which in turn meant a calm Robert.

Sarah waved goodbye to her family as they packed themselves into Irene's minivan, only dropping her arm when they were out of sight.

"Holy cow," she said. "I'm beat. I feel like I could sleep for about a week and then some."


	99. XCIX

As if her words prompted a magic spell, the ground disappeared from beneath Sarah's feet. She didn't fall, but the image of the hard pavement fading out made her reach out and grab Jareth's arm for support. Despite her best attempts, a squeak might have escaped as she shut her eyes.

It was only when she heard him laugh that she cracked one of her eyes open.

The parking lot had turned into a hallway, and the floor beneath her feet was richly carpeted.

"Not funny," she protested, dropping his arm. "I wasn't expecting that!"

"You said you were tired."


	100. C

Okay, so her words might have sort of actually prompted a magic spell. Sarah somehow kept forgetting that whatever Jareth was, he could use magic, and she wanted to kick herself for it.

"Well, I'm definitely awake now!" She pouted at him before reminding herself she wasn't actually a child. "I assume we're in your… castle?" she asked, still hesitant in using the word. The wide stone hallway was certainly reminiscent of a castle-not that Sarah was an expert by any means.

He nodded his head once, seeming back to his silence.

"Would you mind explaining that one to me?"


	101. CI

"I was once a king- _am_ a king," he corrected himself with a severe smile. "But without my owl skin, I was barred from my kingdom. It has been a very, very long time since I was home."

A king and a… whatever he was. Sarah eyed him skeptically, wondering if it all wasn't just a little too good to be true. A magical being whisked her off her feet, and now he was a king, too? She bit the inside of her cheek.

"A king of what?" she asked finally.

"A king of goblins," he said, solemn. "The Goblin King."


	102. CII

The name sounded familiar to Sarah, and she stared at him a little longer trying to figure out where she'd heard the title before. The was reminded of a little red novel that her aunt gave her for her eleventh birthday.

"You don't happen to take wished away children, do you?" She hoped he would say no and that it was just one of the weirder coincidences in her life, but she hadn't been so lucky so far. Her shoulders slumped when he nodded.

"How did you know that?"

"I had this book when I was a kid," she said.


	103. CIII

"I almost wished my baby brother away," was what followed, and even as she said it she wished she could take the words back. Sarah winced, realizing how bad the admission sounded. "I didn't actually, but it's not like I actually thought anybody would be listening to my wish. And I didn't mean it anyway."

He was silent. She was silent, too.

"Nobody would have been here to receive the wish, at any rate," he said.

"It was a bad day," Sarah rambled. "I was babysitting and trying to study and he wouldn't stop fussing…" Sarah let her words trail.


	104. CIV

Sarah didn't want to believe it, but she realized with a sick sort of dread that she did believe that not only was the Goblin King she'd almost wished Toby away to terribly real, but that she was engaged to him. She should have listened whenever Irene would talk about how small the world really was.

Her life the past few weeks had been nothing but strange coincidence after strange coincidence, and if she ever found out what mythical creature was in charge of it all, she would clobber them. Until then, there was an incredibly awkward silence to fill.


	105. CV

"So… why an owl?" Sarah asked. It was as good a question as any, she thought, and it might be good to know since she was still trying to get to know him despite his best attempts to remain opaque.

"All of my kind choose a second skin, if they are not born with one. I chose an owl. For the freedom that flight offered." His lips twisted into a savage frown, and Sarah didn't miss the irony in his decision. When he gave up his skin, he not only gave up flight but his complete autonomy to the warlock.


	106. CVI

Tragic thoughts of Shakespeare-level irony were thrown out the first time Sarah saw a goblin. At least, she assumed it was a goblin; it had batlike ears with tufts of auburn fur coming from inside them and wore a metal sieve as a hat.

Sarah waved at it cautiously, noting that Jareth didn't react at all.

"It's the _girl_!" it exclaimed, staring up at her with bulbous yellow eyes.

"Er, woman, if you please," Sarah said, not wanting to feel like she was a child against Jareth's ageless being. The goblin stared up at her, rapt.

"Queen," it breathed out.


	107. CVII

Sarah opened her mouth to correct the goblin, but the damage was already done. With a squeal of excitement it dashed down the hall, its proclamations of her arrival ringing through the corridor. Sarah winced. The last thing she wanted was to be followed around being hailed as a sovereign ruler.

Which reminded her…

"So… How does this whole king thing work? I ask because where I'm from, monarchies haven't, you know… done so well. Generally."

He looked at her, and she noted with some irritation that his eyebrow raised.

"Look, am I getting my head chopped off or not?"


	108. CVIII

He snorted, and it was so undignified that she was absolutely sure it was all he could do to hold back a guffaw. It wasn't an unreasonable question to Sarah. The goblins seemed harmless, but then again, so did the French peasantry to the nobles.

"Perish the thought," he finally said once he regained his composure. "I would never let something so untoward happen to your pretty little neck."

Sarah was unable to give him the scowl she really wanted to; a smile stole across her lips.

"Cake would probably be a bit too much for them anyway," she said.


	109. CIX

But not much else was said in that moment, because what sounded like a herd of wildebeest rounded the corner. Sarah turned, her eyes wide, ad the same moment Jareth grabbed her arm.

"Bloody hell," he said, and for the second time in a handful of minutes, Sarah felt herself hurtling through empty space.

"They tend to get excitable," he said to explain the veritable wall of goblins that had been hurtling towards them just moments before. "And they have seen me but scant few minutes these past decades-my showing up so suddenly, and with a queen, no less… Well…"


	110. CX

Sarah didn't try to fight the title, but the flurry of activity reminded her that she was actually very tired. She tried and failed to stifle a yawn, and then tried and failed to hide that yawn from Jareth. "Any chance I could catch a nap, at least?" she asked, hoping that the promise of a private room still held true.

"Through that door," Jareth pointed with a dramatic sweep of his arm, "are your rooms. There is a bell provided. Please ring that should you find yourself needing anything."

Sarah nodded her thanks and then waved an awkward goodbye.


	111. CXI

Despite the fact that Sarah was sleeping in a room she'd never even seen before, which happened to be in a castle filled to the brim with magic (and goblins), Sarah slept peacefully. Very peacefully. It was almost suspicious.

But she woke feeling like she could maybe take on the eccentricities of the castle and all its inhabitants, which she counted as a win. When she poked her head out of her room, it was silent, aside from the hushed whispering from around the corner. Sarah stepped out of her bedroom, only to come face to whiskers with a guard.


	112. CXII

But it wasn't just any guard, because of course it couldn't be. Sarah found herself looking into the eyes of a fox sitting astride a fuzzy sheepdog.

"My lady," said the fox, "allow me to make your most illustrious acquaintance. I am Sir Didymus, assigned to yourself as your personal guard and valet."

Didymus, while on his dog, was almost close to being at her eye level. And he did not, at least, look like a wild fox; his eyes were too human.

"Okay," said Sarah. "But I have to warn you-I don't really know what any of that entails."


	113. CXIII

She was introduced to Ambrosius, who licked her hand with his huge, sloppy tongue, and then was bid to follow her guard through the winding pathways of the castle. Sir Didymus was able to keep the goblins at bay through sharp glances and one or two waves of his rapier.

Just like the goblins themselves, he seemed harmless enough; all the same, Sarah was glad not to have to trip all over them as they scrambled all around her. Some even climbed the walls and ceiling, which was a little disconcerting because those goblins looked like they had cat-like paws.


	114. CXIV

In fact, the goblins looked like they'd all been cobbled together from a bunch of spare animal parts. One had the swiveling ears of a bat but the beak of a condor; another had the curled tail of a piglet, but was covered in fluffy, spotted fur. Trying to figure them out gave Sarah a headache before she ultimately gave up on it.

"Are you taking me to breakfast, by any chance?" she asked after her stomach grumbled for the third time. Sir Didymus's ears twitched.

"Of course; one cannot expect you to battle the day on an empty stomach!"


	115. CXV

Sarah was torn between being grateful she was being taken to food, and worried that he implied she'd be doing any sort of battling whatsoever. Didymus didn't explain his odd turn of phrase; he simply dropped her off in front of a beautifully carved doorway that led into what looked like a private dining room.

"The king awaits," her guard said, bowing low. And indeed, when Sarah peeked inside, Jareth was indeed already sitting at the table. Sarah thanked Didymus and waved goodbye to him.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting long," Sarah said, seating herself at the table.


	116. CXVI

"Not at all," he said smoothly, drawing her chair closer to the table through what she presumed was magic, and not a cleverly designed pulley system. Even though she knew it existed now, it would still take some getting used to.

"I feel a little bit like a princess from a fairytale," she confessed. Even down to being given a gown to wear for the day.

"I certainly hope not," Jareth said, eyeing her. "Things don't often end well for those women. Bad luck sticks to those who let others decide their fate."

Sarah shrugged, enjoying the opulence around her.


	117. CXVII

As if on cue, goblins swarmed Sarah almost as soon as they left the breakfast room. Jareth seemed unperturbed by the incident, as if it was something he was accustomed to; Sarah, however, was taken off guard. Before she quite knew what was happening, she was down the hallway and around two corners, where a pack of goblins were excitedly showing her a black chicken.

"It laid an egg!" one of the goblins crowed, pointing to the bird. "Is the queen going to lay an egg?"

Sarah coughed, trying to suppress her surprised laughter.

"No, I don't think I will."


	118. CXVIII

She only noticed that Jareth wasn't with her when she turned to ask him how to get the goblins to stop asking questions. Toby couldn't quite talk yet, but the meandering way their thoughts bounced around reminded her of how he might talk in a year or two.

It was, to her surprise-and slight discomfort-quite a lot like being surrounded by excitable toddlers.

But Jareth wasn't there to answer any questions, and Sarah discovered that she didn't like being ditched. It was Didymus who eventually rescued her; it turned out that while childlike, the goblins were easily distracted by mead.


	119. CXIX

"If you know where he is, I'd like to be taken to him," Sarah said, watching the way Didymus avoided her gaze.

"I am afraid I haven't the faintest idea where he is," the fox guard said. "And although it is a blow to my pride to admit this, I am quite incapable of scenting him out."

"Oh. Well…" Sarah paused, glancing down at Ambrosias. Dogs were used for scent work, weren't they? Surely the dog could find Jareth, if asked.

"What about Ambrosias?"

"Yes. Well," Didymus hedged, his nose twitching. "I suppose my steed could be put to use."


	120. CXX

Ambrosias found Jareth with an almost alarming rapidity, and Sarah almost went skidding around the corner right into Jareth and the goblin he was talking to.

"I am quite serious, Harquil. I will not have her hurt, in any way. Hunt him down like the dog he is, if you must."

His voice was… hard. Sharp. Sarah shrunk away from him, backing into Ambrosias, who whined a little. Harquil, the goblin Jareth had been speaking to, turned the corner and almost walked right into Sarah.

"Lady," he said, offering her a shallow bow and a nervous glance. Sarah nodded back.


	121. CXXI

"Is there trouble?" Sarah asked, already knowing at least part of the answer. Such harsh words were not used for trivial matters.

"None," he said unblinkingly. Sarah sighed and crossed her arms.

"Please don't lie to me. I heard you talking to Harquil."

Jareth rapped his fingertips against his chin, considering Sarah's request.

"Think of it as a preemptive strike," he finally said. "There is no cause to believe anybody is in any specific sort of danger."

"What about general danger?" she countered, raising an eyebrow like she'd seen him do so many times before. It felt good giving back.


	122. CXXII

"There is always the threat of general danger," he said dryly. "But no, Sarah; you are not currently threatened in any way. I simply feel the need to… tie up some loose ends, as it were." Jareth had very few tells that Sarah could reliably pick up on and decipher, and she found no reason to doubt the veracity of his words.

"If you say so," she said cheerfully.

Sir Didymus cleared his throat, reminding them both that he was still there.

"If the lady has any interest at all," he said, sounding slightly nervous. "I have prepared an itinerary."


	123. CXXIII

Sir Didymus's daily itineraries and planned activities took up the bulk of Sarah's next month. In the mornings, he would typically instruct her in the art of defending herself with a dagger, which Sarah thought rather belied the idea that nobody was in any danger.

When she wasn't learning how to stab wooden mannequins, or which magical plants and animals she shouldn't touch, or galavanting through the expansive castle grounds, she was often with Jareth. By the time the letter came, she knew the castle like the back of her hand-even the trick hallway, which tended to move around randomly.


	124. CXXIV

It appeared in a dramatic burst of light and golden smoke, which totally ruined the raspberry jam it landed in. Jareth snorted and retrieved it, flicking off the jam.

"Always with the dramatic entrances," he muttered, and Sarah had to stifle a laugh-he was one to talk! But she waited patiently as he read the note all the same, not pointing out the irony.

"It appears that we have been cordially invited to my cousins' fête," he said, handing her the letter even though it was written in what she suspected was a different language. Still, she appreciated the gesture.


	125. CXXV

The celebration was to last two weeks, and was appropriately called a fortnight fête. Jareth explained that his cousins were exuberant creatures and, consequent to hearing of his return and subsequent engagement, took it upon themselves to throw the both of them a party. He sounded as if it were the most torturous thing imaginable; Sarah thought it sounded rather nice.

… Until she heard that they were expected to arrive within five hours. That had her in a tizzy, trying to figure out what to pack and making her worry that they were anything at all like her mother.


	126. CXXVI

But no, Jareth explained to her, they weren't cruel, just forgetful. It was likely that they spent most of their time planning the party, and next to none remembering that they had to actually invite people to it. It was even more likely that others were just now getting their invitations as well.

"Don't worry yourself about taking anything, either, Sarah," he said. "I can't imagine Illian would pass up the opportunity to treat you like her personal project; she's enamored with human fashion and will absolutely ask if you've been to Paris. No matter the real answer, say no."


	127. CXXVII

Sarah took his advice to heart, and filed away the humorous information that his cousin was something of a fashionista. She wouldn't have expected it-not that she really expected he had family, either. In fact, he'd totally neglected to mention it in all the time they'd spent together. It was a little unfair, she thought. After all, he'd already met hers.

But, she supposed, it was better late than never at all. Especially if they were as… eccentric as he was painting them. Illian, the youngest, Sarah had already been warned about. The other two cousins were still complete mysteries.


	128. CXXVIII

To pay Jareth's cousins back for interrupting their breakfast, Jareth insisted that they arrive in the most ostentatious manner possible. This involved, naturally, being drawn in a dazzling carriage carved from diamond by a team of six unicorns. Everything-including the unicorns-was conjured by Jareth. Sarah felt a little too much like Cinderella and, remembering his words from weeks ago, couldn't quite take pleasure in it.

Such a silly thing to have ruined.

When they stepped out of their glittering coach, it all disappeared in a flash of shimmering light. Sarah, who was not expecting it at all, jumped a little.


	129. CXXIX

She was the only one caught off guard. Jareth stood beside her unflinching, and the three people-his cousins, she assumed-admired the lightshow to different degrees, but otherwise had no reaction.

"Marvellous!" Squealed the rightmost woman, who clapped her hands twice for good measure.

"Illian," Jareth said under his breath, finally giving Sarah a face to put to the name. "Lucanna, and Tollin." Lucanna was, obviously, the woman standing in the middle, looking the most unimpressed.

"The letter was Illian's idea, I take it?"

"Mine, actually," Tollin said with a lopsided grin. "A little puzzlement would do you very well, cousin."


	130. CXXX

If Sarah thought that Jareth was given to decadence-and she definitely did; there was no other way for her to explain the fact that he lived in a castle, or the numerous outfit changes he'd go through in a single day-then Illian and Tollin outdid him exponentially. Tollin dressed himself in golden cloth dotted with rubies, and Illian had hair down past her waist, which she kept immaculate despite the fairies darting through it.

All three were very kind, if perhaps a bit oblivious, and Sarah wondered if Jareth would be the same if he had never met the warlock.


	131. CXXXI

Every now and then, Sarah was reminded that none of the people around her were actually human. Whether it was Illian mourning the loss of Rococo fashion, or the casual way Lucanna mentioned meeting Charlemagne, or Tollin's collection of now-antique poison rings, Sarah always found herself at a loss for words.

She knew Jareth was old. He'd admitted to several centuries, at least, but the reminder was still jarring and a little unwelcome.

Even more unwelcome was the reminder that she simply didn't have the knowledge that they all did.

"Of course you've got to learn to dance," Illian pouted.


	132. CXXXII

"What is the point of a masquerade if you can't _dance_?" she asked, seeming genuinely upset that Sarah might wish to sit the celebration out. Lucanna, sensing the waterworks that were sure to follow, ducked out. Tollin watched with curiosity.

And Jareth was enjoying himself far too much.

"I… Well…" Sarah tried desperately to think of an excuse, but none came to mind. "I'll learn," she finally agreed. "But only if Jareth is my partner. It's only fair." Her demand did not have the desired effect; Jareth looked more pleased than Sarah expected.

Illian clapped her hands.

"Perfect," she declared.


	133. CXXXIII

Over the weeks that Sarah spent living in the goblin castle, they'd gotten used to touching each other. Of course they had. But the casual touch or exhausted lean, or even tiny kiss was almost nothing compared to learning how to dance. The steps were measured and precise, and very, very quick. They also required that partners hold each other flush against each other.

It felt almost indecent, especially when Jareth smirked down at her.

And if Sarah wasn't so concentrated on not missing a step, she might have been mortified when the hand on her back started drifting lower.


	134. CXXXIV

Sarah accomplished competency, if not mastery, of two dances before the first guests arrived. Her feet were sore, and she dearly hoped that the first night would not involve dancing, as both Illian and Tollin seemed to have boundless energy, and Lucanna was not likely to think to take pity on Sarah, either.

It was bad enough that the whole affair was meant to be a masquerade, barring the daytime hours. Sarah felt like enough of a stranger already, and imagining an imminent future full of masks was certainly not putting her at ease.

She didn't have a costume, either.


	135. CXXXV

Jareth, of course, went as some sort of owl. At least, that was Sarah's guess; it was a little hard to tell under all of the gemstones and brocade, but she was pretty sure she saw some feathers, too. His mask featured a wicked looking beak and wide holes for eyes, though they cast his in shadow.

If he was going as an owl, then Sarah wondered if his cousins would also go as their chosen animal skins. It seemed reasonable enough to her, but also presented a problem; the only skin she had was her own. Just regular Sarah.


	136. CXXXVI

She didn't want to stand out, either. Drawing attention to herself was the last thing she wanted, so when she asked about the state of her costume and Jareth presented her with a rack of options, she picked a simple one. The bodice was composed of soft, dappled browns, with a darker brown skirt and sleeves. Her mask covered only half of her face, and she was assured that the soft cream color of it brought out her eyes. She, too, was some sort of bird, though the type escaped her.

"Come forth into the light of things, dear Sarah."


	137. CXXXVII

As expected, the gathering was chaos. When Sarah and Jareth arrived, it seemed that it was already in full swing. Lucanna was telling some amusing anecdote, but made sure to draw the couple into her conversation.

"This is my cousin, Jareth, as I'm sure you all remember," she said with a smile, the top half of her face hidden behind a jewelled viper mask. "And his fiancee, Sarah."

Sarah smiled shyly at the crowd, wondering if she should have learned how to curtsy, too. She was also grateful that she didn't have to explain that they were engaged, not married.


	138. CXXXVIII

Sarah half expected the flaunting of their customs to irritate at least some of those assembled, but if Lucanna had bothered to inform them of anything more than their engagement, they didn't seem to mind. That, along with the glass of mead somebody placed in her hands and Jareth's steady hand on her back, helped to put her at ease.

Before too long, she allowed herself to be drawn into a dance, though she was not confident enough to let anybody but Jareth be her partner. If she ended up stepping on his feet, he would at least forgive her.


	139. CXXXIX

The first night was exhilarating but exhausting, and Sarah found herself too tired to do much of anything else by the time the clock struck two in the morning. Byt the end of the fortnight, she was sure she'd feel like one of the twelve dancing princesses, but she also knew that if she wanted rescuing, she need only ask.

And in the end, she didn't even have to do that. Jareth walked with her back to their room and made sure she at least took off her slippers before falling into bed.

That night, Sarah dreamed of singing birds.


	140. CXL

Sarah woke, her head pounding, to see Jareth splayed out on the settee at the foot of the bed. It didn't look terribly comfortable, and his long legs hung off the end of it, knees bent at odd angles. She swore off whatever mead it was that she was given and crawled closer to him, her skirts impeding her progress.

"Hey," she said gently, in case he had a hangover too. "You didn't have to sleep there. We could have shared the bed."

His eyes opened slowly, and he smiled lazily.

"Is that an invitation to your bed tonight, Sarah?"


	141. CXLI

There was no shortage of things to do, but Sarah found herself bored all the same. She was used to working, whether it be at the cafe or for school, and found the empty hours more than a little intimidating. It made her restless, and she itched for something to do that wasn't playing cards or dancing or wandering the grounds.

The rose garden was beautiful, but there were only so many times she wished to see the same blooms.

As it turned out, a life of hedonism and endless leisure wasn't for her. She found it all incredibly dull.


	142. CXLII

She wondered how he'd ever dealt with it, back before he gave his skin away. And then she remembered the goblins, and she reasoned that they probably didn't let anybody get a restful moment. It would _almost_ be worth it to see one let loose among the finery in this castle. But they would destroy the tapestries and stained glass in the castle. She was sure that no matter how bored she was with the endless lazing about, there had to be _something_ to do. And with that in mind, she set about exploring the deepest reaches of the castle.


	143. CXLIII

Her exploring took her to the highest tower first. It offered a dizzying view of the grounds during the day, but lent itself very well to stargazing at night. She stole away whenever Jareth was busy and she grew tired of being asked how she ever got anything done without magic.

In the tower, she found star maps and charts that detailed constellations she couldn't recognize and hat never heard of. It made her wonder-and not for the first time-where, exactly, she was.

But Sarah was not an astronomer, so the stars themselves only held her attention for so long.


	144. CXLIV

There were no dungeons that she could find, not that she particularly wanted to see any prisoners. That was far too morbid for her, but the morbidity might have lent some reality to the fantastical castle, might have taken away the feeling that she was living in a dream and couldn't wake up.

She found a small library tucked away on the ground floor of the castle, but it offered next to nothing of interest. It was mostly filled with novels, and book after book of ancient genealogy; she could find neither her hosts nor Jareth within their yellowed pages.


	145. CXLV

And then there was the hidden doorway.

It was hidden behind a huge painting of some pastoral scene Sarah wasn't interested in. The door was simple wood that looked, for the most part, unfinished-a far cry from the gilded portals in the rest of the building. Something told her that it was meant to be off limits, perhaps especially to her. She hadn't explicitly been forbidden to go through it, but Jareth was always cautioning her against getting herself lost, which meant he didn't want her getting into trouble.

So naturally, she wanted to see where it would take her.


	146. CXLVI

It wasn't even locked, Sarah realized with a grin. Not conventionally, anyway; she didn't doubt there was some magical ward that hadn't been made to take her into consideration. She slipped into the passage behind the doorway, grabbing a lit candlestick on her way through.

The tiny halo of golden light afforded by the candle showed her a plain stone hallway leading to plain stone stairs. Feeling like she was on something of an adventure, Sarah crept down the stairs.

And found books.

Row after row of plain looking books on plain looking shelves, which piqued Sarah's curiosity. She smiled.


	147. CXLVII

The fancy ones up above had been filled with things that bored her to tears, but these looked like they might actually be interesting. She cracked one open and sneezed-the layer of dust on the top of the pages was impressive-and found annals, but she couldn't make sense of the years listed. She closed it and placed it back on the shelf.

And there, like it was waiting for her, was a tiny purple book with silver writing on it. _On the Changing of Skins_ , it called itself. Sarah took it off the shelf and tucked it under her shirt.


	148. CXLVIII

The small book would have to do; she was sure she'd wasted enough time, and besides, she had to bathe (the dust had settled into her hair and made her feel itchy) and get ready for yet another masked ball. She'd been upgraded, perhaps through pity, from a simple bird to… something else. She hadn't figured it out yet, and the mask was no help; it was a delicate mess of silver wires studded with the occasional opal that swept back into her hair. Illian had promised-or, more accurately, threatened-to help her with it. Sarah grimaced slightly at the thought.


	149. CXLIX

Illian talked and tugged at Sarah's hair while Sarah flipped through the little purple book. She'd started tuning out the well-meaning girl after she made insinuations that made Sarah blush all the way to her ears, and the book was more interesting than the court gossip that flew over her head.

 _Exchanging Skins_ was the chapter that caught her attention, and Sarah flipped to it, hoping for some answers. She didn't think anybody was hiding anything from her specifically; it seemed more like they were all so used to everything they didn't even know where to start. Probably. She hoped.


	150. CXLX

The exchanging of skins is a very intimate act, meant only to be undertaken with perfect trust. Well, that just made her sad; whoever Jareth had originally given his to had clearly broken that trust.

A skin cannot be taken, the author continued, and an unwanted return is a most callous rebuff. Should a skin be both returned and accepted back freely-

"Are you even listening to me?" Illian huffed, reaching over and tugging the book out of her hands. "Mortals! You've only got so much time to be beautiful, and you waste it with your nose in a book."


	151. CLI

Illian, Sarah decided, was not her favorite person. Not only did she seem to be a completely vapid creature, but she was _nice_ , so Sarah couldn't even really hate her for it. Everything was done in a way that Illian thought was helping, even snatching Sarah's book.

Sarah reminded herself of this as Illian tugged on her hair.

"Everyone knows who everyone else is during the ball, despite the masks," Illian commented.

 _Not me_ , thought Sarah crossly. Many were still strangers to her.

"But it's polite to pretend that you don't know who anyone is. That's what makes it fun."


	152. CLII

Lies seemed almost second nature to her hosts. Worse, they were often half-lies, or wound up so tightly with the truth it was almost impossible to distinguish the two. Sarah never knew when any given courtier was lying or simply stretching the truth, so she decided to take nobody at face value.

It made interactions uncomfortable, of course, but Lucanna could be trusted to at least be blunt. Cruel honesty was still honesty, after all.

"Spirits above," the older cousin said as soon as she saw Sarah. "What has that girl done to you? You look like a holiday bauble."


	153. CLIII

Lucanna looked almost severe with her straight black dress and her unadorned black eye mask. Compared to Sarah and Illian, she looked almost like a shadow.

"Don't be rude, sister dearest," Illian pouted. "Nobody wants to be an Everywoman like you, with no defining characteristics."

Behind her mask, Lucanna rolled her eyes. Sarah decided to stay out of the sisterly spat, deciding instead to pluck off a gem here and there and drop them quietly back onto the vanity table. Lucanna was right; Sarah glittered just a little too much.

And besides, all of the gems and metal were heavy.


	154. CLIV

Somehow, Illian was almost late to her own party. It put her into a fit of glee, which Sarah was sure had at least something to do with all eyes being on her, even if she had to share the limelight with her family. She was so ecstatic about being fashionably late that she didn't even try to scold Sarah for replacing one of her jeweled hair pins with one of Jareth's feathers.

"Young love," she said with a dreamy sigh, patting Sarah on the shoulder. "Mortals feel so _passionately_." And then she skipped away into the throng of guests.


	155. CLV

Lucanna let loose a long-suffering sigh and mumbled something about marrying her off, while Tollin looked unfazed. Jareth seemed to ignore his youngest cousin entirely, scanning the crowd as if looking for someone instead.

Sarah placed a hand on his arm, and he flinched only slightly.

"Something wrong?" She asked.

"Not in the slightest," he said, still scanning the crowd. His mask, something horned and slightly grotesque, covered the rest of his face. Sarah couldn't see his expression but knew that he was lying, too. Or at least not telling the whole truth.

She frowned, and wondered when he would.


	156. CLVI

Sarah started off dancing with Jareth, but soon found herself spinning into the arms of others. A man wearing brown bear furs spun her in a lively waltz until she was dizzy, and a woman in soft blue velvet was her partner for the _branle_.

And then the music slowed even more, allowing for a _pavane_ to start. Most took the dance, with its slow, plodding steps and measured movements, as an opportunity to talk.

Jareth was gone; she wasn't sure where he went. So were the cousins, off to wherever.

Sarah found herself quite alone on the dance floor.


	157. CLVII

She wasn't even sure she wanted to dance something so quiet and slow, but found herself thrown into the procession anyway. When it came to her turn to partner up, a man wearing black travelling clothes extended his hand.

"My lady," he said, holding her hand just a little too tightly.

"Hi," she said, wondering how she could duck out of the dance. Sarah tugged her hand a little out of his, so he could not grip her fingers so tightly.

"You look lovely," he said, once they were set apart from the other dancers. "I must applaud your fortune."


	158. CLVIII

"Excuse me?" she asked, certain she'd not heard him correctly. Sarah looked down at him during a pause in the dance, certain that she'd seen him somewhere before. His eyes and upper face were covered, but his mouth had an unpleasant slant to it.

"Such a lucky young woman, to have found herself such a charmed life at the seat of so much power," he continued.

"I don't know what you mean," Sarah protested. His lips twitched and he stood so that they could take a few more steps.

"You have something that belongs to me, little girl," he whispered.


	159. CLIX

As he took his turn around her, his fingers brushed the owl feather she'd tucked into her hair. With a quick tug, he pulled it out. Sarah shuddered, more out of anger than fear

"People don't belong to other people," she told him, "least of all to beasts like you."

He paused, a moment too soon than the song called for, and another gentleman almost ran into him. The warlock scowled at the man, and then turned his gaze back to Sarah.

"Watch your words, harlot," he snapped, and Sarah felt her face redden. _Harlot?_

"I'll get back what's mine."


	160. CLX

"Just try it, asshole," she spat. Her words attracted the attention of the couple next to them, but Sarah was beyond caring. "What you'll get is what's coming to you; I'll make sure of it."

More nervous glances told her that a few more nearby couples had overheard her.

"Threats, little girl? We shall see." He bowed low to mock her, and then stepped out of the dance; Sarah did not want to let him get away.

"I need to borrow this for a second," she said as she pulled an ornamental dagger from the hilt at a gentleman's waist.


	161. CLXI

She didn't even give the man time to protest; instead, she hitched up her skirts and took off after the warlock as fast as her dance slippers would let her. People moved out of her way, parting like the tides to let her pass. No doubt she was quite a sight, but all of Sarah's attention was focused on not losing the warlock.

She dashed out of the ballroom after him and down an opulent corridor, where she thought she saw his shadow slink around the corner. Echoing footsteps against the stone floor took her down another turn, then another.


	162. CLXII

She thought she saw him at the top of a flight of stairs, and so she chased after him. She thought she saw the edge of his cloak whip around a corner, and so she tore around it, hoping to finally confront him.

But just like all the times before, he was gone.

And she was lost.

Sarah stopped, finding herself staring into a mirror that marked the end of a small hallway. The warlock was gone, nowhere to be found. All of the doors were locked or their rooms clearly had not been disturbed in a very long time.


	163. CLXIII

With no choice but to find her way back to the ballroom, Sarah tucked the dagger into her sleeve. It wouldn't have done any good if she had been able to catch the warlock anyway. The glittering thing was probably only capable of cutting butter, and even then only if it was heated beforehand. And even if it had been sharpm she wouldn't have known how to use it.

She found herself where she started, right outside the ballroom door with the warlock nowhere to be found. The only person waiting was Tollin, who looked beyond relieved to see her.


	164. CLXIV

"Where's Jareth?" She asked his cousin. He looked paler than usual and his brows were drawn together ever so slightly-but not enough to create wrinkles.

"Looking for you, of course. Do you still have Bertrand's pugio?"

"This?" Sarah asked, sliding the dagger out of her sleeve. "I didn't even use it," she added as she handed it over to Tollin, just in case Bertrand was terribly angry. Not that she'd be able to pick him out of a crowd anyway.

"You intended to?" He asked, looking between her and the dull blade as if mystified. Sarah just shrugged her shoulders.


	165. CLXV

She felt herself tugged gently back into a hug and did not protest; she knew these hands. Their warmth was familiar, as was the way they ran down her skin.

"Jareth," she said, leaning back against his chest for comfort before turning to face him. "He was here."

He cupped her right cheek with one hand and used the other to steady her shoulder while he looked at her, as if searching for an injury of some sort. Sarah wrapped her hand around his wrist gently.

"I'm fine," she whispered. "But we need to block the exits or set guards-"


	166. CLXVI

That seemed to get Jareth's attention, but only slightly.

"Cousin," he said, without looking away from Sarah. "Please take Sarah to a secure room and post a guard. With the aid of a few of your soldiers, if you permit, I will conduct a sweep of the castle _myself_ to hunt my quarry."

There was silence, and then Tollin cleared his throat.

"Dear cousin, I am unaware of how it is in your kingdom, but we do not have soldiers here. We've never needed them," he added in defense of himself as Jareth scowled.

"We're wasting time," Sarah reminded Jareth.


	167. CLXVII

"And I'm coming with you," she added as he started to pull away. He looked at her, surprised, and then the surprise melted into a small frown.

"You are to be kept safe," he said, as if unsure of his words.

"I know," Sarah said, patting his arm. "But if there aren't guards here, then isn't it safest to be with you? Besides, I've already tried chasing after him once. If he wanted to hurt me that badly, he could have done so."

His frown relented, and Sarah saw an internal debate working behind his eyes.

"That does seem… reasonable."


	168. CLXVIII

Reasonableness, however, was not one of Jareth's strongest characteristics. Sarah was unbothered by that normally, as she too would pick and choose her reasonableness by the day, but this, she thought, was going just a shade too far.

"When I said I wanted to be with you, I meant that I wanted to be _with you_ ," she said, hoping to point out just how very unreasonable he was being. "Not stuck, literally, in your shadow. How am I supposed to help look like that?"

"Your being safe and untouchable will help immensely," he said, holding the spell in his hand.


	169. CLXIX

In the end, she let him bespell her. It didn't make any sense to hold up the search with petty squabbles.

And she had to admit, being a shadow was kind of cool. She could pass through solid objects and into the smallest of cracks, which ended up being useful. It satisfied both her need to do something to help, and his need to make sure that nothing could happen to her. The best of both worlds. Kind of. Bright lights tended to smart a little bit, but it was nothing worse that hitting her funny bone slightly too hard.


	170. CLXX

It was in one such hard-to-reach corner that she found the book Illian had spirited away. Sarah still didn't think the book theft was malicious, but she tucked away the location for the future.

Still, though, aside from dusty cobwebs in the highest tower and what looked to be an actual, living family tree in a courtyard, there was nothing else of note. The warlock had vanished. Disappeared. As if he'd never even existed. Sarah was upset, but Jareth paced like a caged tiger. His family treated the matter as if the uninvited guest was nothing more than an annoyance.


	171. CLXXI

Sarah threw herself into training with Didymus with a ferocity that did nothing to hide her anger. But after too many bruised knuckles and twisted ankles and furrowed brows that Jareth smoothed away, Sarah finally had to admit that she was not cut out for fighting. She was loathe to prove Didymus's assumptions _that ladies shouldn't fight, my lady_ correct in her case, but she found it apt. She was a barista, after all, not warrior queen Boudicca.

Something else would have to be done. Now that they were back in Jareth's castle he had become less tense, just barely.


	172. CLXXII

There was the small matter of the courtship he promised her, all those weeks ago, that she had somehow forgotten. Sarah remembered his words quite vividly when she woke one day to her room smelling like she imagine a French perfumery might have.

Before she even opened her eyes, roses and gardenias and what she thought might have been orchids assaulted her nose. Still wrapped in her blanket, she sneezed. And opened her eyes.

Every single flat surface-and quite a few of the vertical ones, including the walls-was covered in the blooms.

Someday, she'd have to get used to magic.


	173. CLXXIII

She half expected Illian to pop up somewhere, what with all of the flowers and ribbons and fluttery little things that might have been hummingbirds floating around the castle. No doubt that Jareth's cousin had _helped_ him-her fingerprints were all over the strawberries and sugar that Sarah was presented with for breakfast. Figuratively, if not literally.

It made going about her day extremely stressful-the goblins kept trying to weave overly perfumed blooms through her hair, and the birds kept trying to rest on her shoulders.

The unicorn peering out at her from her wardrobe was where Sarah drew the line.


	174. CLXXIV

He was hiding in a far-flung corridor, like he knew _exactly_ what was wrong. The hallways were mercifully high and wide enough for the unicorn to follow her, and so when Sarah got tired of the goblins crowding around her feet, she climbed up onto its back. _Why not?_ She thought.

And she eventually found him, riding on her fairytale steed. And he was _hiding_.

Sarah looked at him. He looked at her.

"I admit that listening to my dear cousin was a tactical error," he said, brushing petals from his hair as a goblin prepared to toss another handful.


End file.
